Son of the Strawhat
by Adali
Summary: Nami has a son, and Sanji can't figure out who the father is. Meanwhile, it's business as usual for the rest of the crew. Slight AU, quasispoilers for W7. Nami?, implied ZoSan. T for later chapters.
1. Son of the Strawhat

**Son of the Strawhat**

_Chapter 1_

It was the sort of mystery you mulled over in quiet times, when you could pretend you were thinking of nothing at all if anyone caught you with that speculative look in your eye. Truth be told, there wasn't time for that sort of speculation when things weren't quiet, because you were too busy trying to keep yourself and your nakama alive; all of them, even the brat.

Yeah, the brat. The one Sanji found himself wondering about during those quiet times, when there was neither cooking nor ass-kicking to take precedence. Or babysitting to be done. You'd think babysitting was the perfect time to wonder about the kid you're babysitting, but with the brat, there just wasn't time for that sort of thing. The kid had way too much energy.

So it was at those quiet times, when his crewmates were quietly tucked up in bed and it wasn't yet time for the midnight pantry raids, that he found himself wondering about the brat. Or, more specifically, his origins. Well, not his origins, per se, because he (unfortunately) knew where the brat came from. He just didn't know how he… ah… came to be there, as it were.

He didn't wonder about the physical mechanics of the whole thing, which the shithead swordsman had helpfully offered to explain the one time Sanji had mentioned his curiosity to the man. He might blush to even think of them, but that didn't mean he didn't understand how the whole thing worked. It was just that he was wondering…

"You're trying to figure out who knocked her up, aren't you?" He turned to find the swordsman leaning on the rail next to him, the man's face dark with shadows. He was glad the darkness hid his furious blush at Zoro's crude words. "Why don't you just let it go?"

Sanji shifted uncomfortably. "I can't."

"It's not like it makes any difference. You think Nami'll make you take responsibility now, even though the brat's, what, four already?"

"He's two. And he's not mine."

"So you always say."

Zoro never seemed to understand that sometimes, despite what a monster the brat was, Sanji wished he was the kid's father. It would mean he had finally overcome his embarrassment and admitted to the lovely Nami-san that he cared about her, instead of just showering her with the empty, flowery phrases he used on every woman. But he knew he never had, so he knew for sure that the brat most certainly wasn't his.

At least, not any more than he belonged to anyone else on the crew, as far as Sanji could see. In a certain sense, the brat belonged to all of them equally: he was a Strawhat, born and (probably) bred, and certainly raised as one. As such, it shouldn't have come as any surprise that the brat was a complete monster. He had a whole host of talents, variously acquired from among the crew.

The boy was coordinated. It was a trait he had inherited from his mother, whose deft and dexterous fingers drew such beautiful maps. Regrettably, it was a talent displayed more in the vein of their captain. For a two year old, it took immense coordination to clap one's feet and pick one's nose at the same time. Sanji could appreciate that, even as he was repulsed by the enormity of the boogers the boy extricated from his nostrils.

As expected of a Strawhat, the brat had an immense fighting spirit, and never flinched from insurmountable odds. He favored kicking, much as Sanji did, although he was just as likely to bite or strike out with his chubby little fists. The problem was, he didn't seem to have realized that fighting talent wasn't supposed to be utilized against your nakama just because you didn't want to take a bath. Zoro had threatened to drown the brat if it ever tried to bite him again.

Sometimes, when he was in a suspicious mood, Sanji thought the brat's inexhaustible energy must come from the swordsman - the only reasonable suspect as the brat's father among the crew. Certainly the brat, like a certain shithead, never knew when to stop, and would keep running full tilt until he abruptly fell over from exhaustion. Sanji had never met anyone else capable of going from three miles an hour (the tot's top speed) to fast asleep on his face in less than a second. Then he'd be up and running again ten minutes later. The brat was more likely to exhaust whoever had to watch him than himself.

He poured that energy into everything he did, whether it was nearly hanging himself in the rigging or trying to fit himself inside one of the cannons. Recently, that idiot shipwright had declared the boy was musically gifted, so the brat had set about using that gift with all the enthusiasm of one who mistakenly believes themselves to be a prodigy. On the rare occasion Sanji managed to save his pots from being used as drums, the boy would sing loudly in his childishly sweet, but still off-key, voice. He could also, to Franky's delight and Sanji's horror, burp the alphabet (which he thought contained thirty-four letters).

Those problems with the alphabet could probably be laid at Robin's door. She was the one who had taught the brat to read and write. Forgetting, or perhaps choosing to ignore, that not everyone had her natural gift for archeology, she had tried to teach the boy three different languages from the start. Really, it wasn't any surprise he got confused. Annoying as it was, it also shouldn't have come as any surprise that, having learned about cave drawings and poneglyphs, he should decide to use his crayons to decorate the ship with archeological wonders of his own.

Chopper had decided to help with the brat's education too, and had introduced the boy to natural history. Sanji had overheard their lessons from time to time: this is a bird, this is a bear, this is a hito-hito blue-nosed reindeer, this is a butterfly… Then the brat had discovered the existence of devil's fruits and medicines, and come to the conclusion that eating weird shit was good for you. Sanji was sometimes tempted just to let him get on with it and find out the hard way, but Nami would not appreciate that.

To it all was added Usopp's influence on the child. Growing up with a fertile imagination was good: it helped you survive on the Grand Line. What wasn't so good was the compulsive need to apply that imagination to everything, including the answer to questions like "Who stole all the cookies right before dinner?" Usopp, at least, came back to reality long enough not to get himself killed.

And yet, even though the brat was a little monster, and snored more loudly than Luffy and Zoro combined, Sanji couldn't really dislike him. No one could dislike that brat once he had it in his head to be charming (even when he thought 'charming' meant instigating a spitting contest). He was a bit like Luffy in that sense, although he remained hopeful that the brat would grow to be more mature than the captain.

That consideration brought him, indirectly, back to his original question. Who's the brat's father? There were no real visual clues: the brat looked too much like his mother, from his flaming orange hair to his dark eyes. Sanji knew for certain it wasn't him. The boy might act a lot like Luffy, but then again Luffy acted a lot like a two year old. Not Chopper: the brat didn't have fur. His gut told him it wasn't Usopp (and wasn't nose length hereditary? The brat's was normal length.) That left Franky, or…

"I know that look. He's not mine."

Sanji didn't want to think it was. It crushed his heart to think of this oaf having any sort of relationship with the lovely Nami-san. But if he had to think of likely suspects, Sanji would have put the swordsman right up near the top with himself.

"You don't believe me."

The cook hesitated. "I want to," he muttered bitterly. "But, well…"

He could almost hear the swordsman roll his eyes. "Yeah, fine. We had our flings. Mostly when we were both piss drunk. It never meant anything, and it sure as hell never produced that." A jerk of his head indicated the cabin the brat shared with his mother.

"But how do you know?" Sanji didn't want to sound whiny or, worse, jealous, but he could never sound so coolly unaffected as he wanted where Nami was concerned.

Zoro shifted uncomfortably, but when he answered there was no crack in his composure. "Unless she got at me without my knowing, I hadn't touched her for a year before that brat showed up. It's not mine."

"Oh."

There was silence for a minute, then Zoro said, "That's a good thing, isn't it?"

"I don't know. Why?"

"I don't think I could stand to face a kid and tell them I'm the reason they're so messed up."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Zoro sighed quietly. "I left home young, and after that there was nothing but fighting and my swords. I wasn't a very good son, and I'd sure as shit make a worse father." The swordsman's teeth flashed in the moonlight when he grinned at Sanji. "Should have been you. The kid would've turned into a pansy, but he'd be okay. He'd have a good father." The last part sounded grudging.

"Maybe. I can't say what I would have done." He met Zoro's eyes in the dark. "I'm not sure whether it was easier not to hate him when I thought he was yours."

"You'd care about my messed up whelps? I'm touched."

"Maybe I'll just castrate you to make sure you never have any," Sanji snapped back.

Zoro held up a placating hand. "Even if he's not ours, we're doing an okay job, don't you think?" he said gently. He so rarely turned away from a fight that Sanji let it go, as unwilling to dissolve the easy conversation as to risk waking the brat.

"Yeah, I guess. He's still a handful."

The swordsman snorted. "Luffy wants to get him a devil's fruit. Imagine him after that."

"Sweet seas, anything but that."


	2. Kidnapped 1

**Son of the Strawhat  
**Chapter 2

They had dropped anchor in a little bay along the shore of a little summer island when the pirates attacked. Sanji was sure there was some sort of irony in him complaining about the assault, considering his current occupation, but really. There was no call to go around attacking people completely out of the blue like that. Some people really knew how to spoil a person's day.

The day had started beautifully. They had finally left behind the erratic weather of the open seas and entered the calm of a sea under the influence of a summer island. The beauties of the crew, the delightful Nami-san and the wonderful Robin-chan, had traded their heavy sweaters and long pants for short skirts and tank-tops. Sanji's nose twitched, ready to issue a spurt of blood if he explored that memory any further.

It was just past midday when they reached the cove. Sanji had bullied Usopp and the stupid marimo into helping him set up a barbeque on the beach. The crew had enjoyed a lovely meal of that all-time favorite, roast meat, before taking the chance to relax with their personal hobbies.

Robin-chan and Chopper had settled down in the sun with their books. Nami-san, looking stunning and sexy beyond words, had changed into her bikini so she could work on her maps and her tan at the same time. Luffy was up in a tree somewhere. Franky was singing quietly to himself, playing his guitar as he strolled around inspecting the ship.

Usopp was teaching the brat to prime the forward cannon. Each time they let off a shot, Usopp would shoot the cannonball while it was still in the air, blowing the ball apart. He might only be using a slingshot, but Sanji doubted even Zoro (whose head was solid rock) would be getting up to quickly after taking one of those to the head. The brat cheered every explosion.

Down the beach from where Sanji was enjoying a smoke, the marimo was weight training. It was a hobby of his which Sanji had come to appreciate over the years: it was about the only time the swordsman wasn't shooting his stupid mouth off or snoring. Even if the silence was broken every so often by Nami yelling at Zoro to stop his weights making those stupid clanking noises, and Zoro yelling back to shut up, damn woman, he was concentrating, Sanji found the calm relaxing. Even when they were yelling, he liked the scene his nakama made: tanned and beautiful, but fiery and deadly even in their tranquility.

In his time on the Grand Line, Sanji had come to the conclusion that there were two sorts of times that were worth living for. The first type were times like these: relaxed and carefree, when he could enjoy the company of his nakama and take time to reflect on how lucky he was to live as he did. The other sort were the polar opposite: those times when the reek of gunpowder stung his nose and his ears were filled with the clash of metal and the shouts of combatants. Those were the times when he felt the most alive, and the most determined to go on living this wonderful life he had.

Sanji had been enjoying one of those happy times there on the beach before the pirates had shown up. They had come and taken away his restful time, and failed to replace it with that other sort of time that he lived for. Those stupid pirates were so pathetic Sanji felt nothing but mild irritation as one of his kicks knocked a pirate back into three of his fellows, taking all four of them out of the fight. They had disturbed his smoke and hadn't even made it worth his time. Really, Sanji thought, he had every right to complain about pirates attacking him.

Around him, most of his nakama looked similarly bored. Robin-chan didn't even look up from her book as arms sprang from attacker's shoulders and snapped their necks. Chopper occasionally gave one a deliberate jab with his Horn Point antlers, but his main attention seemed to be focused on the string of strange syllables he was muttering. "Pectineus, pectoralis, piriformus…"

Up on the ship's railing, Usopp had assumed a dramatic pose, and was loudly telling anyone who cared to listen about the time the Great Captain Usopp had single-handedly defeated thirty thousand brigands and sent them crying home to their mommies. No one seemed to be listening, but then again, no one was attacking him either.

Franky's punches sent pirates flying anytime they thought to approach the otherwise unguarded ship. Sanji thought he saw the cyborg smash a man's head open for damaging a railing with a grappling hook, but he couldn't have said for sure. He wasn't all that surprised, though: that man could be completely unreasonable when it came to his creations.

Luffy's method of attack seemed to be alternating punches with snot rockets from his perch upside down in a tree. It was working, but Sanji found himself briefly wondering at his own sanity for following a captain who thought boogers were acceptable projectiles, even against losers like these.

Further down the beach, his precious Nami-san's irritation had manifested itself as a thundercloud above her head. One hand directed lightning like an orchestra conductor, shouts of pain blossoming wherever she pointed her baton. Her other hand flipped the pages of her notebook industriously, looking for something she had scribbled down weeks ago. She was still shouting at Zoro to keep it down with his damn weights.

"I'm trying to concentrate here, bloody woman," came the aggrieved reply. "If you want quiet, stop yelling."

"Don't make me fry your stupid hide."

"Yeah, yeah." He moved through another step of his kata, knocking away four pirates with the enormous weight he held like a sword. "Bring it on, then, if you're so tough."

"Then you wouldn't have to pay me back. I'm doubling your interest."

A sweep of the weights sent a pirate flying straight into the heart of the thundercloud. "I already owe you two hundred million, woman. Isn't that enough?"

Lightning picked off a pirate that was trying to sneak back to his boat unscathed. "We'll discuss your finances another time. I'm trying to concentrate right now."

"So am I!"

It really did Sanji's heart a world of good to see them. There was his idol, Nami-san, radiating beauty and power like lightning (and actual lightning too, of course). It was moments like this that made Sanji wish for a camera so that he could capture and immortalize her spirit and strength. And there, too, was the marimo-head, like the resurrection of some ancient god of war. A bastard he might be, when he fought he was as beautiful as Nami-san (but not quite, his inner-gentleman added).

Sanji's perfect day was well on its way down the toilet by the time the pirates got the hint and scuttled back to their ship. It wasn't until they were sailing away as fast as they could manage before they found the guts to shout back about how the Strawhats would be sorry and how they hadn't heard the last of the something-or-other-but-doubtless-very-scary shitty pirates.

Usopp was running around, apparently remembering that he was supposed to be a coward now that the attackers were gone. Sanji went back to dicing vegetables for supper. The others resumed their previous activities as though they had never been interrupted (which they mostly hadn't).

Things were finally calm and quiet again, which was why that shithead Usopp finished running around. He stopped on the beach, in the middle of the ragged circle of the crew, and let out a wail. "They took the kid!"


	3. Kidnapped 2

**Son of the Strawhat  
**_Chapter 3_

Something as organized as a council of war would have been beyond the crew of the Thousand Sunny. Instead, each member went off to do whatever they thought most important for the pursuit and subsequent ass-kicking. So, while Usopp was composing a lyrical ballad detailing his fighting prowess, and Luffy was jumping on the figure head impatiently, Sanji found himself loading the barbeque and food back onto the ship with the shithead.

"Quit grumbling, shithead," he snapped, trying to kick the idiot in the head while balancing a cutting board covered in diced vegetables in one hand and a dozen loose tomatoes in the other. The marimo blocked him with the barbeque, somehow managing not to spill any of the charcoal.

"What's it to you, crap cook?"

"You are in a shitty mood," Sanji observed, kicking the galley door open. Somewhere behind him, Franky was shouting about not abusing the ship. He held the door with his foot just long enough for the shithead to get most of the way through before he let it go.

"Stupid jerk. Why shouldn't I be in a shit mood?" Zoro tossed the barbeque down. "Those assholes disturbed my training and stole my son."

"Your son!?" Not even Zoro could react quickly enough to block the kick that flew at his head. "You shitty bastard!" Sanji wasn't sure what offended him more: that the bastard had got his hands on the lovely Nami-san, or that he had lied about it. It should probably have been the former.

"What?" Zoro demanded, rubbing his very red cheek. "Am I not allowed to be pissed about that or something, asshole?"

"You said he wasn't yours," Sanji hissed.

The moron just blinked at him. "He's not."

Sanji really wanted to scream, or maybe hit something. He settled for doing both, kicking Zoro soundly into the opposite wall. "You just said he was."

"What the hell, bastard?"

"You called him your son." He shouldn't have to spell things out this much, even for this shitty bastard.

"Isn't he?"

Can't smoke in the kitchen, Sanji reminded himself. He kicked the idiot again instead. "Is he or isn't he?" he demanded.

"Can't I think of him as my son?" He was ready for Sanji's kick this time, getting his arm up in plenty of time to block. "I teach him how to use a sword. I read to him. That's what George's father does in those books we're always reading to him."

Sanji was so surprised his next kick missed its mark. "You think doing that sort of thing makes you his father?"

"Doesn't it?"

"There's that whole genetics thing," Sanji said slowly, trying to explain what should have been a really easy concept to an idiot like Zoro.

Zoro shrugged. "He calls me his dad." He left the galley to get more supplies off the beach, pausing their conversation. Fuming, Sanji followed him out.

Once they were safely back in the kitchen, away from the ears of their crewmates, Sanji slammed his box onto the counter. "What do you mean, he calls you his dad?"

"Stupid asshole. He calls you his dad too."

That was enough of a surprise that Sanji couldn't think of anything to say but, "Huh?"

The idiot marimo was actually giving him a derisive look. "You think anyone's going to explain 'that whole genetics thing' to the brat?" he asked. "As far as the kid's concerned, he's got four dads, two grandparents, and a really fuzzy uncle."

"How the hell did he get that idea."

"I told you." The idiot was never very good at being patient. "Those books about George."

Sanji stared at him. "The boring ones about the village kid?"

"Yeah."

"Where the dad takes him fishing, and the mom cooks his favorite foods?"

"Yeah."

"You're telling me that kid defines his family based on… on…"

"Grandparents who are older than parents and uncles who are doctors." Zoro's look plainly said he shouldn't have to explain this to Sanji. It made sense to a two year old, after all.

"Oh."

They went out for another supply run, hauling freshly filled water jugs onboard past where Chopper was feverishly checking his first aid kit.

"So he thinks Franky's his grandfather?" Sanji demanded. "And Robin's his grandmother?"

Zoro glared at him. "I managed to convince him you weren't his mother, alright? What more do you want?" He stomped out leaving a dumbfounded Sanji behind him.

His mother? "Oh," he said quietly after a moment. With idiot logic like that, there was no arguing that Luffy had a hand in raising the kid. Just because I cook… Yeah, with fathers like that, no wonder the kid was a total idiot.

"Dad." He rolled the word around in his mouth experimentally. It didn't have a bad sound to it. He grinned, until he remembered where his 'son' was now. His expression hardened. Those shitty bastards were going to pay for this.

"Nami-san," he caroled, leaning over the ship's railing. "We're ready to go."

The navigator glanced at the sun. "We'll go tomorrow, Sanji-kun," she announced, picking up her maps.

"What?" Luffy bounded onto the rail, nearly loosing himself into the shallow surf as he did. "But we gotta…"

"Tomorrow." She didn't sound at all concerned.

"But…" Chopper protested.

"What? You think our kid can't take care of himself for one night?"

…

"This means I'll have to completely change my victory ballad!" Usopp wailed when they told him.

* * *

_Perhaps not the most satisfactory chapter, at least in terms of kill!maim!revenge!, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway._


	4. Kidnapped 3

**Son of the Strawhat  
**

_Chapter Four_

It had seemed like a good idea, back when they were all drunk on adrenaline and fear. It would probably seem like a good idea again, once they'd made it back to the safety afforded by the rest of the fleet. Right now, out on the open water on their own, with those crazy bastards probably chasing them at full speed, primed to kill, it wasn't seeming like such a bright plan. It was still an inspired way to get back at those crazy bastards for beating the living hell out of them. On the other hand, revenge could go both ways; the crazy bastards would probably come beat the tar out of them all again, because everyone wanted a chance at a bit of revenge, especially pirates who had just been pirated.

"Hey Jacko, if you're done staring into space, it's your turn." I was not 'staring into space', he thought. I was pondering the innately transient nature of our time in this world. He'd been thinking about that a lot these last few days. Since kidnapping the child, he had the feeling that his time in this world had been radically shortened.

He let himself down into the hold. It was dark down here, and somewhat damp. Not the sort of place he cared to spend a great deal of time under any circumstances, but orders were orders. The reason for those orders sat in his cage near the far end of the hold, looking off-color and shadowy in the dim light of the lanterns.

Dressed in blue shorts, a red shirt, and a yellow sunhat that no man in his right mind would put on a child, the kid could have been a miniature Strawhat Luffy but for his bright orange hair. "Well now, wee one, how are ya today?" Worse than the last few days, judging by those poor crewmen who had had babysitting duty earlier. A two year old should not have been able to cow an entire crew of battle-hardened pirates, even if that two year old was a member of the Strawhat Pirates.

"I'm hungry."

"You should have eaten your breakfast then, shouldn't've you?" He could vaguely remember his mother saying something like that to him, back before he'd run away to sea.

"You bastards can't cook for shit, crap for brains," the mite said positively. Jacko didn't care where the kid had grown up: no toddler should use words like that. Worse, it sounded like the kid knew what they meant. Someone had used them a lot where the kid could hear, which was something even a pirate like Jacko knew not to do.

"That's not a nice thing to say." How could you argue with a kid like this? Yelling at him (and maybe teaching him a few more choice words) wasn't an option. Worse, he was right: no one on the ship was even a halfway decent cook. "Besides, even if it tasted bad, you wouldn't be hungry now."

"Yes I would. I'm hungry."

"That's too bad, isn't it."

"You'll pay for this, bastard. With three hundred percent interest!" Jacko wasn't quite sure how that was relevant, but it sounded sort of menacing all the same.

Look at yerself, ya pansy. Scared shitless by a mite wee one. It was not the sort of thought that helped matters at all. Perhaps it would be easiest to just distract the kid. "What's yer name, laddie?"

Dark eyes glared at him from under the brim of that cute little hat. "Who wants to know?"

"I'm Jacko."

"You've never heard of me? You been living in a hole your whole life, Jackass?" The mite scrambled to his feet and took a stance that, had he been closer to six feet than two, would have been dramatic. "Everyone's heard of That Damn Brat, Ska-rouge of the Seas." Try it again when you can pronounce the word, bittie. And then, to Jacko's utter astonishment, his prisoner burst into song. "Who's the greatest in the world? Brat is, Brat is! Who makes your bowels unfurl? Brat is, Brat is! Gimme food, won't cut ya in two! Oh, he's such a terror! Can't get killed never! Gimme meat, can't me beat!"

Not only was the kid singing, he was dancing. Sort of. He seemed to be attempting some sort of disco, but it involved a hip wiggle that Jacko had previously only seen in the less reputable sort of clubs. Where the blazes did the mite learn that? The brat paused, held up four grubby fingers, and cried, "Second Verse of the Song About That Damn Brat!" Jacko wanted to cry. He'd known the Strawhat's weren't normal pirates, but to have a kid like this… the world was a very scary place indeed.

"Laddie," he interrupted, half way through the fourth verse. "No more dancing. Please."

The bairn gave him a reproachful look. "Why not? S'how Granpa dances. He taught me. Said I'm good at it." Jacko had a brief, terrifying vision of an old man doing that hip wiggle before his poor brain scurried away from the idea. The kid had moved on, too. "I'm gonna be like Granpa when I grow up. Gonna get a buncha tattoos like him'n Mommy have, an' gonna dye my hair green and yellow like my dads, or maybe blue like Granpa, an' I ain't gonna wear pants never again!" The last was accompanied by a fervent head nod.

"No pants?" Jacko's traitorous mouth asked weakly before his brain could overrule it.

A firm nod. "Granma says only adults can walk around in their under-drawers. Little boys…" He gestured Jacko closer, as though about to impart a secret, although when he continued his voice was as loud as ever. "…gonna get sodominized if'n they go around without pants." The mite grinned, his eyes focused on that far off day when he would be able to be like his grandfather. "Granpa don't get sodominized 'cause he's got a steel butt!"

No, no, he's just a little boy! He doesn't know what he's talking about!

"I don't think getting sodominized would be that bad. Granma said that when Mommy, no wait, he's a Daddy, makes all the shouting noises, it's 'cause Daddy is sodominizing him, an' he always sounds really happy." He appeared to be deep in thought for a minute. "When I grow up, I'm only gonna have half a steel butt, so's I can still get sodominized if'n I want."

"When… when you grow up," Jacko agreed weakly.

"S'not fair," the wee one continued, his perfect angel innocence still shining from his face. "Only grown-ups are allowed to get sodominized. Little boys have to go play with the cannons while the grown-ups are having fun. It's 'cause they think they're keeping it secret," he added, with all the seriousness his two-foot frame could hold. "But Granma and Uncle explained it all to me."

Please, please let my turn be over. I'll stand extra watches, I'll scrub the whole deck myself, just don't make me baby-sit any longer. It's all wrong, so wrong…

"Wanna see a cool trick?" Jacko wasn't given the chance to answer before the mite was digging through one of his nostrils. He pulled it out with a pop, proudly showing Jacko the booger the excavation had unearthed. "It's stretchy, just like Daddy."

There was so much of it, Jacko really shouldn't have been surprised at how far it stretched. A true booger connoisseur, such as the 'Daddy' who had apparently taught the mite this trick, would not have been. But even living with dirty, ill-mannered pirates for the last ten years, Jacko had only met men who would furtively pick their noses and flick the results away. No one in their right mind would make a production out of what they found.

"Booger's are really cool. Uncle told me. There's all these sneaky invisible ninja bugs that try to climb up your nose." He stuck his finger in his to illustrate. "An' if they gets in, they attacks you from the inside and try to cook your brains."

"They do?"

"An' you can't fight them normally, 'cause they're ninja bugs. If you tried to blow them up, you'd go boom too."

"Really."

"But boogers are ninja traps! As long as you got boogers, the ninjas can't cook your brains."

"Is that right."

A decisive nod. "Uncle told me, an' he's a doctor. He knows everything about boogers an' carrots."

Considering how the conversation had gone so far, Jacko knew he shouldn't have asked. But there was something about this kid that made you morbidly curious, so that you had to know what he'd say next, even when you knew you didn't want to hear it. "Carrots?"

A pudgy finger was inserted into an ear and, after a few seconds of rummaging, a bit of orange earwax was extracted. "Carrots," the bairn told him. "You must be really stupid, not knowing about carrots."

"I thought you meant the kind we eat."

"This is the kind we eat. If'n you don't clean out your ears enough, they gets bigger an' bigger, an' then you goes deaf 'cause there's a giant carrot in your ear. Only most people clean out their ears lots, so we have to get our carrots from the giant Wambaloombas on the Island of Turkey Basters. My daddy told me that. He's sailed all over the Grand Line. He used to have twenty bazillion million followers."

Just then, Jacko would have given anything to have his ears stopped, even by carrots. He was starting to fear that you really could have your ears talked off. No! Don't think about ears! Hopefully the watch would end soon, and he could go throw himself overboard. The fish didn't talk, even here on the Grand Line.

"Jacko?" That hissing, guttural voice could only belong to Stibbs. The man was a demon made flesh, even if Jacko had seen him crying after baby-sitting duty this morning. There's always a bigger demon (or at least an eviler one) after all. "You still alive down there?"

"I'm here, Stibbs. Thanks for taking over."

"I ain't taking over." There was genuine fear in the other man's voice. "The commander's here. Wants to look at the hostage. Down here, sir." That last, filled with respect, was obviously addressed to the fleet commander, newly arrived in response to an embarrassed (and rather fearful) Den Den Mushi call.

The commander, walking down the ladder, looked like a devil returning to his rightful place in hell. A haze of dark smoke seemed to follow him, curling into the dark corners of the hold. Jacko moved respectfully out of the way, letting the powerful man past him to stare into the cage.

Squatting down, the commander studied the hostage in silence. Standing behind him respectfully, Jacko was once again reminded of the greatness of the pirate he followed. Scrawled across thick muscles was the symbol of the fleet, a design known and feared throughout the Grand Line. The commander was the greatest man Jacko had ever seen, but he still answered to someone above him. With the commander here, not even the Strawhats could threaten them: their days of fear were over.

"Daddy!" The wee one cried, hurling himself towards where the commander crouched next to the bars. He grabbed the commander's cheek and pulled as hard as his little arm would let him. Jacko pulled out his sword, ready to kill to defend his commander, even if the attacker was a toddler.

The tot let go and stepped back, his dark eyes accusing. "You're not my Daddy."

"The crew tells me they kidnapped you from the Strawhat Pirates."

A sullen silence answered the commander's statement. "Answer the question…" Jacko started to say, but the commander waved him back.

"You're Belle, right?"

"Go to hell, bastard."

The commander didn't take the bait. "And your father is… Strawhat Luffy, then?"

"I got lots of Daddies, an' they're gonna kick your ass, shithead."

"Sir?" Jacko wasn't sure if he was allowed to talk to the commander but his curiosity, which had led to the emotionally scarring conversation he'd just had with the wee one, was getting the better of him again. "Ain't 'Belle' a lassie's name?"

"Huh?" The commander glanced over his shoulder, looking as surprised as if the wall had started talking to him. "Oh, yeah. I guess. Blondie reckoned he was named after his grandmother." An enormous grin split the commander's face in two, which Jacko thought made him look even more menacing. "But since it's Dorobo Neko Nami, he probably got named after money. Isn't that right, kiddo?"

"My mommy can beat this crap out of you with her eyes closed."

"Yes," the commander agreed, utterly serious. "Yes, she can." There was a note in his voice that made Jacko think that, for some reason, the commander was actually hoping she would. He grinned. "She probably will, too, for not coming to visit you sooner. Blondie too."

"Yes." The tot scowled at him. "An' Daddy'll cut you up into little pieces an' feed you to the Sea Kings."

Jacko thought he ought to let the mite know what a great man he was going up against. "Wee one, hush. You've been rude enough to the commander." The warning fell on deaf ears. The mite was, quite suddenly, fast asleep, snoring as loudly as a full grown man.

The commander laughed. "Open the cage, Jacko. When the Strawhats are done beating the stuffing out of you, tell them the brat's with his Uncle Ace." He tossed the sleeping toddler over his shoulder and sauntered out, leaving Jacko to dread facing the Strawhats again.

…

Nami dropped the bloody form of Jacko back to the deck. "About time that bastard took some responsibility."

* * *

_Well, that's the end of it, I guess. I have a one shot that I'll probably post in here as a fifth chapter type thing. I'd like to actually write a fifth chapter, or an afterward, or just keep writing in the wee!Strawhat verse, but if I do, it'll probably be a while before anything gets put up, mostly because of my schedule and current lack of inspiration in this vein._


	5. Kindergarten 1

_In the end, I decided not to post the one-shot I had originally planned to add here. It's up on and entitled _Three Hundred Percent_, if anyone's interested. Instead, I decided to move on to the next arc of the wee!Strawhat verse. I've renamed the first arc, although I'm only going back and changing the drop menu, not the titles on the chapters themselves._

* * *

**Son of the Strawhat: Kindergarten**  
_Chapter One_

When he was five years old, Portgas D. Belle was sent to kindergarten. He, predictably, did not want to go.

"But I knows it all already," he wailed, knowing he was acting half his age but also knowing that, when he did that, he was more likely to get his way. It was his final weapon against his parents, and it almost never failed. Daddy Luffy was especially weak against it.

"Come on, Nami, can't he stay with us?"

Mommy gave him the look. It was the one that said that, if Daddy didn't shut his mouth right now, he was going to bed without dinner. Belle remembered the look from the time he lied about who spilled ink all over Mommy's desk when they stole Daddy's sword to practice with. He'd been very good since then, just to avoid getting the look again.

Daddy Sanji kicked Daddy Luffy in the head. "Shut up, shithead."

"S'not like we want to leave him," Daddy Zoro rumbled from where he'd been pretending to be asleep. "S'just for a couple of months, anyway."

"Probably just a couple of weeks," Daddy Usopp told him kindly. Belle knew that Daddy Usopp was a liar, but he didn't think his Daddy was lying deliberately this time. Maybe they really would be back in a couple of weeks.

This strategy wasn't going anywhere. It was time for the Ultra Super Secret Weapon. Belle's lower lip wibbled. His eyes got wider. He sniffed. An enormous crocodile tear gathered in the corner of his eye. "Don't leave me!" he wailed. He could feel it: even Mommy wavered at that.

He felt himself scooped up and held gently. "None of that now, Belle," Grandma said gently. Damn. Grandma saw through everything. She produced a handkerchief from somewhere and wiped his eyes, before putting it to his nose. "Blow," she ordered. He meekly did as he was told, and the soiled cloth was whisked away by a flurry of hands. "Now, here's your backpack," she said, as an arm growing out of the mainmast offered it to him. "There's a book in there for you in case school is too easy. There's a tin of cookies in there from your Daddy as well, but don't eat them all at once. And Grandpa put your guitar in there too, alright?"

"Yes, Gran'ma," he answered obediently. He still didn't understand why he had to be left behind here, instead of somewhere he knew, like Auntie Vivi's, or with Great-Grandma Kureha (who was still very young), or with Uncle Iceburg and the shipwright ossans. He'd stayed in those places lots of times, and he liked them. This place wasn't even on the Grand Line. Deep within himself, Belle knew that that was why he was here, but he still resented it.

Grandma put him down, and his family clustered around him to say goodbye. There were hugs from everyone, even Daddy Zoro. Daddy Luffy slipped something - it felt like a packet of jerky - into his pocket. Daddy Usopp whispered, "I snuck your slingshot into your pack." Daddy Sanji fussed over him, and Daddy Zoro grunted at him not to get weak. Uncle Chopper was crying, and had to be pried off of him.

Mommy was last, giving him a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Be nice to your Aunt Nojiko," she told him. "And remember," she grinned, and Belle chimed in with her, "charge triple interest!" Mommy laughed and ruffled his hair.

Aunt Nojiko came over from where she'd been waiting, and offered Belle her hand. "Come on, Belle," she said kindly. Aunt Nojiko was pretty, Belle thought, but she didn't seem strong like Mommy. He would have to protect her, he decided.

They walked down the gangplank together, then turned to watch the crew get ready to sail. When he was on the ship, it all made sense to Belle: everyone had a job to do, and everything was organized. From here on the shore, it looked like his family was running around every which way in a confusing bustle of activity. But soon the ship was sailing away. His family crowded at the stern railing, waving and shouting goodbye. Belle yelled back, and jumped and waved until they were just a spot on the horizon.

"Let's go home, Belle," Aunt Nojiko said. She seemed to like saying his name, like it reminded her of something. Mommy got like that too, sometimes, but since she was Mommy, she was allowed.

Home, it turned out, was a little two-storey house at the end of the main street. There were flowers in boxes under the window, and a swing hanging from the tree in the front yard. "Annie, Marie, we're home," Aunt Nojiko called. The door opened, and two little girls, one Belle's age, one about two, tumbled out.

"Mommy, mommy," they chorused. "You brought it?"

"Not it, him," Aunt Nojiko corrected firmly, bending down to hug her daughters. "This is your cousin Belle."

"He doesn't look like my cousin," the older girl said positively. The younger one was staring at Belle with wide eyes and sucking her thumb. "He's all dirty."

"Hush, Marie. That's not nice." Aunt Nojiko, Belle saw, was nowhere near as strong as Mommy. If anyone said something Mommy didn't like, she told them to shut up, and sometimes she gave them a smack over the head too. Aunt Nojiko seemed embarrassed, and maybe even a bit nervous.

"Thank you for taking care of me," Belle said as politely as he could, just like Grandma had taught him. She and Daddy always insisted that he be a gentleman, even when what he really wanted to do was hit people who were rude. That, Daddy said, was that idiot marimo's influence, and Belle wasn't to do that unless a man insulted a lady. Belle had never thought women needed protecting - Grandma and Mommy certainly didn't - but maybe weak ladies like Aunt Nojiko did. Still, Marie didn't seem very strong either.

"Oh, Nojiko, you're home." A man had come up the path behind them. Belle had heard him, but hadn't turned around, because Aunt Nojiko hadn't seemed worried. Seeing her jump now, it occurred to Belle that Aunt Nojiko might not have heard him.

"Carne-san." Aunt Nojiko turned with a smile.

"Daddy!" The two little girls cried, running over to embrace their father. Little girls, Belle decided, were silly creatures. His Mommy and Grandma, he reasoned, must never have been little girls, because he didn't think there'd ever been a time when they'd been silly.

"And who's this?" Carne-san asked.

Aunt Nojiko smiled and pushed Belle forward. "This is my nephew, Belle. Remember, I told you he'd be staying with us for a while. Belle, this is Carne-san, my husband. He's a chef."

Belle wanted to say something about how this man couldn't possibly be as good a chef as Daddy Sanji but, mindful of Mommy's order to be nice, and Grandma's lessons on manners, he only said, "Hello."

Carne-san looked at him oddly. "Are you sure this is the right one?" he asked Aunt Nojiko. "He seems too polite for a kid raised by the chibinasu." Belle had no idea what he was talking about.

"Carne-san used to work with your Daddy at the Baratie," Aunt Nojiko explained.

Oh, that made sense. "So he knows Daddy's a better cook," Belle said without thinking.

Aunt Nojiko looked startled. "How dare you?" Marie hit him on the arm - not hard, but it was annoying. "My Daddy's the bestest cook in the world!" Belle glared at her. Maybe Daddy Zoro was right, and it was okay to hit girls if they deserved it.

"Marie!"

Carne-san laughed and patted his daughter on the head kindly. "No, ma cherie, he's right. His Daddy used to be the assistant head chef under Zeff-san. You remember Zeff-san. Belle's daddy is a very good cook."

"My daddy's still better," Marie said petulantly. Annie sucked her thumb in a way that, to Belle, seemed to signify agreement.

"Cherie, Belle is our guest. Please be nice to him," Carne-san said. "Now, come help me with dinner." He led his daughter inside.

Aunt Nojiko smiled down at Belle. "Come inside, Belle. I'll show you your room."


	6. Kindergarten 2

_I'm uploading this now, and _obviously _there's something that comes after it, but I'm not sure when that'll go up. Hopefully within the next week. It isn't written yet, although the general outline is planned. Unfortunately, I have a hazy outline for like a million possible directions the next chapter could go. But I'm off to the woods for meditation and so on (that is, working at a summer camp) where I live in a tipi and don't have internet, so hopefully the squirrels will inspire me so that, when I come back next week to write exams and do laundry, I'll be able to pound it out in an hour. Rest assured, it's on my list of priorities and, being more fun, will probably get done before more important things._

* * *

**Son of the Strawhat: Kindergarten**  
_Chapter Two  
_

Nojiko and Carne had met through their respective pirate acquaintances some years back. They had passed several happy hours discussing how unreasonable Nami and Sanji were. Each had insisted that they had been stuck with the more difficult one, but their arguments had become less and less convincing over the course of the evening as they partook of the free-flowing ale at the party. Somehow, they had hit it off and, more than six years later, they were still happily married with two darling children.

Some years ago, they had moved to West Blue for a fresh start, away from the ruins of Arlong Park and Zeff's overbearing presence. Nojiko tended an orchard, as her mother had before her, and Carne worked in the village pub, which prospered thanks to his culinary expertise. They made no mention of their piratical connections, nor their own slightly checkered pasts, and so they were well liked and accepted in their new village (which had its own history of piratical connections which no one would acknowledge).

Because they were well-known and respected citizens, it caused little comment when Nojiko's young nephew arrived one day, unexpected by all but the couple in question. There were rumors that there might be a scandal involved, but Carne quashed those quickly. "His folks travel a lot, and thought it would be good for him to have some stability." If anyone had thought to ask the boy, they would have learned that only the first part was true, but no one did. "They're thriving," Nojiko would answer dryly to anyone who thought to, delicately, ask if 'traveling' was a euphemism for 'dead, but the kid doesn't know'.

Despite their acceptance of Belle's presence, the villagers were an inquisitive lot, and frequently found excuses to drop by the house and meet the boy. They found a quiet, well-mannered boy, who spoke to them pleasantly enough and got along with his cousins. But then, Belle had learned from the best liar ever to sail the Grand Line (and many other, undiscovered, oceans), and that was what he wanted them to see. If the villagers had been a bit less trusting and naive, they would have met a beast of a little boy, who tortured his cousins mercilessly, sang raucous songs, quaffed ale that he'd gotten from somewhere, played no end of pranks, and disappeared for hours at a time to do who-knew-what.

Nojiko and Carne, knowing Belle's parents (or at least, two of his parents, who they simply assumed were his only parents) accepted all this with the best grace they could, and weren't really troubled by him. He got up to all sorts of mischief (and probably more that they didn't find out about) but he was unfailingly polite to them, and well-behaved when he needed to be. They weren't even too concerned about his unending battle with Marie: she had brought it on herself, and Belle knew the meaning of restraint, even if she didn't.

So passed a relatively (for Belle) uneventful week before, in a blaze of late-summer sunshine, Belle's first day of school arrived. Carne-san made him a bento, just like Marie, and Aunt Nojiko walked the pair of them to the village schoolhouse. "Marie, remember what we talked about," Aunt Nojiko told her daughter sternly as they walked. "You mustn't mention Belle's family to anyone."

"Yes mama," Marie said dutifully. Belle wondered if his aunt knew that the girl was lying, and just waiting for her chance to tell everyone horror stories about Belle's parents. Most of them wouldn't even be true: Marie hadn't been told anything about where Belle came from, although she'd quite shrewdly guessed that his parents were pirates. But just because the truth was probably far more scandalous (exciting) than anything Marie could make up didn't mean her stories wouldn't make trouble for him.

"Have a good day, Belle. Learn lots, you two." Aunt Nojiko accepted their half-hearted agreement and kissed them each on the forehead before leaving. Belle and Marie watched in silence as she walked down the road, turning back every now and again to wave to them.

When she was alone, Belle said, "Say whatever you want. I'll get even."

"Poo," Marie said, relishing the use of the bad word now that her mother wasn't here to stop her. Belle knew a lot of words that were much worse, although he didn't use them as indiscriminately now as he had when he was two and didn't know what they meant. "What could you do?"

Belle smiled. It was a very slow, nasty smile, very like the one his grandma was prone to giving just before she snapped someone's neck. "I don't know." He didn't need to add the yet; his tone did it for him.

The door to the school opened, and a teacher poked her head out. "There you two are. You're late." She ushered them inside, chatting vapidly about how exciting it was to be starting kindergarten. Belle was quite sure she was an idiot.

"I found them," she told the class, once they arrived in the brightly-painted classroom. "Everyone, Marie's here. And I'd like you all to meet our new friend-"

"My name's Brat," Belle cut in loudly. One glance around at his new classmates had told him that being introduced as Belle would bring nothing but trouble. The stupid, piggy kids here wouldn't understand where the name came from, and just tease him about having a girl's name. And Belle, despite the (more or less) level-headedness of his parents, was still young, and didn't take to teasing any better than any other five year old.

The teacher gave a little giggle, as though he'd said something cute. "Now, B-"

"Brat," he said firmly. He glared at Marie, daring her to argue.

She sneered back at him. "It fits." Belle had been sneered at by a lot of very powerful ladies who were very, very practiced at sneering. Marie's sneer didn't faze him in the slightest.

"Let's all sit in a circle and play a game," the teacher caroled. The other children, well-practiced in this, formed a circle quickly. Belle considered resisting, but decided it wasn't worth the effort quite yet. He sat, too, as far from Marie and the stupid teacher as he could.

One they were all seated, the teacher held up a ball. "We're going to pass this around the circle. When we get it, we'll say our name and what we did this summer. Doesn't that sound like fun?"

A particularly piggy boy put up his hand. Belle couldn't figure out why he was doing this, until the teacher pointed at him and told him he was allowed to speak. Then, even knowing that this was the boy's way of asking permission to speak, Belle thought it was weird: when he wanted to say something, he didn't need permission. "Why do we need to say our names? We all know each other already."

"But Be- Brat doesn't know us yet," the teacher said. "We want to help him get to know us." If the teacher were even a bit smarter, Belle thought, she'd know what an idiot she was. Saying something like that marked him as an outsider. Belle, with the nose for weather he had inherited from his mother, could already smell a storm of trouble brewing.

The teacher held up the ball. "I'm Sakura-sensei. This summer, I went on a boat trip!"

This seemed to spark the other children's interest, although Belle, for the life of him, couldn't understand what was so amazing about going on a boat. A little girl with a snotty nose and pigtails put up her hand. "Where did you go, Sakura-sensei?" she squeaked excitedly.

"I went all the way around the island, and over to the next island. Who knows what's on the next island?"

A chubby, dark boy put up his hand. "The marine base," he answered arrogantly. "My daddy works there. He's a sergeant." So what? Belle thought. I've beaten sergeants before. They aren't that tough.

Sakura-sensei passed the ball to the child next to her, a well-dressed little girl with her blond hair in braids. "My name's Miki. I rode my horse this summer."

And so it went, a quarter of the way around the circle before Belle found the teacher crouched in front of him, her face scrunched up in worry. "Brat, are you alright? You fell asleep very suddenly, and you wouldn't wake up." Belle looked around. All the other kids were staring at him curiously.

"That's 'cause you're so stupid," Marie whispered, though not so quietly that everyone didn't hear.

"Marie!" Sakura-sensei said. Like Aunt Nojiko, she seemed to think this would have some effect on what Marie said.

Belle glared at his cousin. "It's narcolepsy," he told the class, not even stumbling over the word. Uncle Chopper had taught it to him, and explained all about it. No one in the class, not even Sakura-sensei, seemed to have heard of it. "It's genetic." Uncle Chopper had explained that too, and said that was why Daddy and Uncle Ace and even Great-Grandpa Garp slept a lot too (but not Daddy Zoro, Uncle Chopper said: Daddy Zoro was just lazy).

The class seemed just as confused by the word 'genetic' as they had been by 'narcolepsy'. "Everyone in my family does it. It's cool," he added, though he knew they wouldn't agree. They were all stupid, just like Marie and Sakura-sensei.

"That's very interesting," Sakura-sensei said, and started the game again in a way that said she didn't want to think about what had just happened. Belle found himself wishing he'd brought the book Grandma had given him in case he got bored: an hour into school and he already needed it desperately.

When the ball reached Belle, he stared at it for a moment, then bounced it experimentally. It gave a pathetic sort of squeak and hardly bounced at all. Daddy bounced way better than the ball. "I'm That Damn Brat, Scourge of the Seas. I spent the summer on a pirate ship, sailing the Grand Line." Every word of it was true: Daddy had even helped him write a song about it, and Grandpa had helped him put it to music he could play on his guitar.

"No you didn't," one kid called, forgetting to put up his hand.

"Liar," said the snot-nosed girl.

Sakura-sensei giggled weakly. "Now, Brat, story time is later. Right now we're telling the truth." She said it in a way that implied Belle might not know the difference between the truth and a lie.

To his surprise, Marie spoke up in his defense. "It's true. His Mommy and Daddy are pirates." Belle had known he wouldn't be believed: that was why he'd said it. But if Marie said it, the children might actually think it was true. "He's here because the marines caught them and they're in jail." Which was completely, utterly untrue.

"Ha," said the arrogant boy. "I bet my daddy caught them and stuffed them in jail."

"Dirty pirates gonna rot in jail forever!" another boy called.

The girl with the blond braids giggled in a high-mannered, that's-oh-so-sad way. "I guess you don't have a Mommy and Daddy anymore," she taunted.

Belle saw red. The classroom exploded.


	7. Kindergarten 3

_Between exams and a term paper, my squirrel-free break wasn't as fanfiction-rich as I'd hoped it would be. On the other hand, this did get done. I can't make any promises about when I'll update again (see previous note Re: squirrels) so, even though I'll probably post again before it ends, have a good summer!_

* * *

**Son of the Strawhat: Kindergarten  
**_Chapter Three_

When Belle woke up, he was in jail. If he had been his mother or grandmother, he might have appreciated how cliché the situation was. But since he was a Strawhat pirate of the male persuasion, he thought being incarcerated was new and exciting. A more seasoned inmate would have known that jail gets old and boring very fast but, being five years old, Belle didn't have a lot of experience in this respect.

In fact, he had none. He had almost be thrown in jail last year, but the marine who had caught him had decided to present the dangerous pirate (captured with a surprising amount of difficulty) to his captain first. The man, very proud and eager and no doubt expecting instant promotion, had made a great show bringing Belle before the division's assembled officers.

Most of the junior officers had been a bit uncertain: even if the kid was a pirate with a bounty on his head (one million belli, although it had doubled just after he'd turned five) he was still a kid. They had been a bit unnerved by how he'd stared back at them fearlessly, but they'd thought he might not know what was going on. Marines, it should be pointed out, get even less child-rearing experience than the average pirate. And most pirates have trouble telling the difference between a two year old and an eight year old.

The senior officer had looked at him with an expressionless face. Belle had looked back. The officer had blown an irritated ring of smoke, said, "Dammit, Portgas," and given Belle a marine hat "just in case you ever grow some sense and join the marines." Belle thought Captain Smoker was alright, even if he was a stinky marine. He wasn't quite in the same league as Great-grandpa Garp who, to the young boy, had been like a god, but Belle had thought Captain Smoker was pretty strong and cool.

A lady named Tashigi had been sent to take Belle back to the ship. He'd gone with her, because he'd been told to, even though she got lost as many times as Daddy would have because she didn't have her glasses on. And so Belle, four years old with a bounty on his head, had avoided the slammer for the first time in his life.

Now, at five years old, his delinquent lifestyle, as Great-uncle Cobra called it, had caught up with him. Belle inspected his cell critically. As dungeons went, it lacked a certain something. Which was to say, manacles, a rack, and suspicious bloodstains. It was small: it only took him a half-dozen steps to cross it. The bars and stone wall were all solid and in good repair. The whole thing had the feel of a place that was scrubbed on a daily basis. In all, it completely failed to live up to Belle's expectations of a proper jail.

Belle's cell was one of several that surrounded a circular space where a marine sat at a desk. All the other cells had pirates in them; in most, three or four grown men were squished in together. A few of them were staring at him curiously.

"What'cha in for, kid?" one called, when he realized Belle was awake. "Did'ja steal some'at else's toys?"

Another grinned at him, his teeth a collection of rotten stumps. "Maybe you talked back to your Mama?"

Belle thought for a moment. He remembered the other kids teasing him, saying bad things about his parents. He remembered getting mad at them. He was pretty sure he'd punched the pig-faced boy, and he'd probably kicked the blond girl in the face. He thought the stupid boy with the marine for a father had come at him with a pair of safety scissors; Belle had the felling he'd shown the boy just how unsafe those scissors could be. Overall, he had the impression of having made enough of a mess that Daddy would only have given him a half portion of dessert. Although, since it had sort of (technically) been a fight, Daddy might not have minded.

"I think I hit someone," he told the grinning man.

The marine at the desk looked up. He had a dark, angry face; his scowl drew his enormous eyebrows together into a thick, disapproving line. "You're awake, now. Let's get on with it, then." He brandished a piece of paper in what would have been a threatening manner if it hadn't flopped so pathetically. "Name?" He spat the word, as though Belle disgusted him.

Belle looked the man over. He had a sergeant's stripes and dark skin. It wasn't certain, but Belle thought he might be the arrogant boy's father. Belle took an instant dislike to him. "Mommy told me not to talk to strangers." He stared at the man, daring him to back away from the brewing fight.

The man with the rotten teeth snorted. "Good on you, laddie."

Belle looked at him. "Who's laddie?" he demanded. Belle didn't like being called 'laddie': for some reason, he associated it with the dark, and hunger, and a cage (a proper one, not a clean, pleasant one like this one). Daddy liked to tell stories about the time Belle had been kidnapped, and Belle had, rightly or wrongly, associated the epithet with that time. Maybe one of the pirates who had held him captive had called him that.

"You are: a wee little laddie."

Belle glared at him. "I ain't. I'm That Damn Brat, Scourge of the Sea."

"That won't fit on the form." Another marine had come in and was standing by the desk. He had his hand on the sergeant's shoulder, keeping the man in his seat. He was smiling mildly, like he thought Belle was funny in a cute sort of way. Belle got the impression the man thought this was all some sort of joke, and didn't believe Belle was capable of doing anything worth being thrown in jail for. Do marines play jokes like this on each other? Belle wondered. "What's your real name?"

"Belle," the boy muttered sulkily.

The man's smirk grew. "Sorry, you looked like a boy." He actually laughed. Belle snatched up the little tin cup from the shelf in his cell and hurled it at the man. It smacked him squarely in the forehead and dropped to the floor with a clang. Rotten Teeth roared with laughter, and around the room other prisoners grinned and snickered.

The smirking man wasn't smirking anymore. His face contorted with rage, he snatched up the cup and stormed towards Belle. "You think you're pretty funny, don't you, little punk?"

"I'm a boy," Belle said firmly. "I got named after my grandmother, who was a better marine than you'll ever be." Well, Daddy said he'd probably been named after his grandmother. Or money, but Belle didn't think that would help right now.

The man was right up against the bars now. "And where's your grandmother now, brat?"

"Dead," Belle snapped. "She got shot by a pirate when Mommy was little."

"Really." He reached through the bars and slammed the cup down on its shelf. "Got any other interesting lies to tell us?"

Belle turned up the force of his glare. "No, but here's the truth for you." Belle smiled a horrible, evil smile. "If your boss finds out you've been drinking on the job, you're done for." The smile became sweet, and even more evil. "Or I could just shout and tell everyone you're trying to molest me." He settled himself on his cot and gave the marine Nami's most winning loan-shark smile (which, since she'd learned it from Arlong, was very pointy and menacing).

The man staggered back from the bars. "What?"

"Just 'cause I'm little doesn't mean I'm stupid." By this time, Belle was getting thoroughly sick of prison. He wanted to get his paperwork done so they'd let him go and he could go do something more exciting. "You." He pointed imperiously at the dark guard. "My name's Portgas D. Belle. Member of the Strawhat Pirates. Bounty is two million. Anything else? I want to leave."

"Oh, there you are." A third man had walked into the central enclosure where the guards stood. Tanned skin, marked with tattoos, stretched over steely muscles. His dark hair was pushed back from his face, starkly showing angular features and wicked eyes. He'd left his orange hat somewhere, but even without the trademark there was no mistaking Ace. "Hey, you spelled 'Portgas' wrong," he said, leaning over the desk to jab a finger at the paper.

"Why are you here?" Belle came up to the bars and stared at his uncle beseechingly. Not that he wasn't happy to see his uncle, who was riotously fun, but if he's been expecting anyone to come get him is was Aunt Nojiko and Carne-san, who'd be there to bail, not bust, him out.

Uncle Ace shrugged, not answering. He took the docking form away from the sergeant - who still hadn't seemed to register the fact that a pirate with a ridiculously high bounty had just sauntered in. The page was folded into an airplane - not as good as the ones Daddy and Grandpa made - and, with a demonic grin from Uncle Ace, set aflame. "Catch," he told Belle, sending the flaming paper towards him.

And, because Belle trusted his uncle as much as he did the rest of his family (which was a lot, as long as dinner wasn't involved) he did exactly that. It hadn't been a very good airplane, so Belle had to reach out between the bars to catch it, or it wouldn't have made it to him. Having caught it, he looked at his uncle questioningly.

"Hey, hey! Kid, you're on fire!" someone shouted. Belle glanced down and, as more people were starting to shout, he did seem to be on fire. He looked back up at his uncle, wondering if this was intentional. The fire didn't hurt, exactly, but it did feel funny.

Uncle Ace was grinning. "Ha! I win! Take that, Marco!" Marco, Belle remembered, was someone Uncle Ace worked with. He'd only met the man once, when he was very small, and Uncle Ace had taken him to visit the Whitebeard Pirates. "They are too genetic." Then, apparently remembering that his nephew was currently on fire, he turned back to Belle. "How's it feel, brat?"

"Kinda funny," Belle admitted. "Ticklish, like."

Ace seemed to be expecting this. "Can you make the rest of you feel like that?" Belle thought about it, and decided he probably could. It took a while, and parts of him just didn't want to do it - his elbows were particularly tricky - but in the end he got it. Uncle Ace's grin got bigger and bigger as he went.

"Holy shit," he heard one of the pirates say. "The kid's a Devil Fruit user."

Which, Belle knew, was patent bullshit. He'd never eaten a Devil's Fruit, and never planned to. And Daddy had taught him to swim only last year (even though he'd been really, really bad at it, and still was). "Right, now come over here," Uncle Ace told him.

"Can't." He didn't remember Uncle Ace as being stupid. "There's bars."

"Hey," said Uncle Ace, in just that tone of voice Daddy Sanji used sometimes, which meant 'I know what I'm doing, so why aren't you trusting me?' It also meant 'do it now.' Belle, with serious misgivings, did as he was told.

Amazingly, the bars weren't there. Or, rather, they were, but Belle wasn't. His elbow got caught, briefly, but then he was fully through. Uncle Ace beamed. "Awesome." A pause. "But you can stop flaming now."

With a start, Belle realized that was exactly what he was doing. Somehow, he hadn't made the connection until now. He pushed the tickling sensation away, and was relieved to find himself back to normal. Experimentally, he tried to bring the tickling back, but didn't seem able to do it.

The two marines seemed to have finally got over their shock. "Pirates!" shouted the dark skinned one. "It's a raid!"

Uncle Ace looked at him in disbelief. "That's really, really slow. Let's go, kid."

"My stuff's at Aunt Nojiko's," Belle told him, taking his uncle's hand and feeling the tickling sensation work its way up his arm.

"We'll pick it up on our way back to the Grand Line," Ace told him. Then, just before they disappeared in a crackling pillar of flame, added, "unless you want to go back to kindergarten."

To everyone's surprise, Belle's bounty didn't go up after his breakout. Carne-san later wrote and told them no one believed he'd even been arrested: after all, he was only in kindergarten.


	8. Fallen 1

_I know it's been a while. I'm slowly getting over my summer-imposed writer's block, and things are starting to flow again. This next arc is coming together amazingly well, me thinks. I'm not sure about the writing itself, though - after so long off, it might be a bit patchy. I also haven't edited as much as I normally do, so there may still be some errors, but I wanted to get this up. Thanks for putting up with it. -Adali  
_

* * *

**Son of the Strawhat: Fallen  
**_Chapter One_

It was love at first sight. She was a sweet little blond with warm brown eyes and delicate hands that turned over the grilling meat in her family's barbeque restaurant with consummate skill. He was a dashing young pirate with a legendary bounty, great fighting skills and, of course, rugged good-looks that blended appealingly with his refined manners. Admittedly, she was twenty, he was ten, and she probably didn't even know he existed, but that wasn't the point. The point was that it was obviously destiny.

"Wipe your mouth," Marie commanded sternly, her annoying voice breaking through his fogged brain. That voice - oh, that voice. He'd come back from the dead just to make it shut up, he hated it so much. "You're drooling." Her tone implied that Belle had managed to become even more disgusting than he normally was, which shouldn't have been possible.

"Blow it out'cher ass," he retorted, stuffing a large chunk of grilled meat into his mouth and very deliberately chewing with his mouth open - after checking that his angel wouldn't see, of course. Daddy Sanji had taught him how to treat a lady properly, after all. But he could as horrible as he liked to Marie, because she wasn't a lady. Not by a long shot. Why, the stupid girl was even going away to a school so she could learn how. Most girls just figured it out, but Marie was so dumb she had to be taught. Mommy had smacked him over the head when he'd said so, though.

Marie was scowling at him. "I was only trying to help," she said snippily. "But I can see it's wasted. It's not like she'll notice you anyway. You're just a little boy." She sneered, adding extra insult to the taunt. "I wish Uncle Zoro could have taken me shopping." She got that slightly empty look in her eye that Belle had noticed when she watched Daddy training. Marie, he had realized, had a crush on Daddy.

"_I'm _disgusting?" Yeah, Daddy was super cool. But Daddy was also _old_. "Yer the one droolin' over my dad." If Marie never say Daddy again - if Marie never saw any of them - life would be good. Marie ought to fall off the edge of the world.

"I am not." But she was sufficiently flustered that she couldn't come up with a retort. "Anyway, who would be interested in a pirate?"

Belle glared at her with Mommy's patented you-are-in-so-much-shit glare. _Pirate _was a dirty word in an aristocratic marine town like this one, as Marie well knew. There were probably marines here that could even give Belle some trouble, and Marie casually talking about pirates was like shouting an invitation for them to come arrest him.

"Yer gonna get kicked outta school afore ya even start," Belle told her. "Talkin' shit like that." He speared a piece of chicken with his chopstick for emphasis. "Ya ain't allowed to associate with 'dirty scum' like us." Mommy and Daddies still didn't know that Marie had called all pirates that just after they picked her up from West Blue. Belle intended to hold it over her head for a long time to come. Marie might talk trash about pirates, but she didn't want to offend his family.

Marie turned red and suddenly became very interested in her grilled vegetables. "You're a stupid brat," she muttered.

"Scourge of the Seas," Belle agreed languidly. He took a swig of his ale (this might have been a marine town, and Belle might only have been only ten, but when he wanted ale people gave him ale). "S'what I do."

"Is it now?" a voice snarled behind him. "That's interestin'. 'Cause what _we _do is hunt shit like you, see?" Across from him, Marie had suddenly gone very pale. Belle tipped his chair back to look up into the speaker's face.

There were two of them: big, grizzled men with greedy, angry eyes and unwashed clothes. _Unusual to see bounty hunters in a town like this_, Belle mused. Daddy's friends Johnny and Yosaku had said it was because marines didn't like bounty hunters any better than they liked pirates. For sure, these two looked like more unsavory characters than many of the pirates Belle knew.

Out of the corner of his eye, Belle could see his angel hurrying over to try and protect her family's restaurants and its patrons. Best to end this peacefully, if he could - he didn't want her hurt, and it would be discourteous to fight in front of a lady. "Nah. I'm just eatin'," Belle drawled, taking a very deliberate bite of his chicken to illustrate. He glared very pointedly at Marie, his eyes promising all sorts of retribution if she caused any trouble (she'd gotten him arrested twice before, after all). From the look in her eyes, though, Marie didn't seem inclined to try anything.

"S'not what it looks like to us." Both men chuckled as though they'd made some great joke. Belle resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Stupid bastards. "See, what I'm seein' is some no good pirate shit dirtying up this place."

"Twenty million'll take good care of us, I figure," his partner added, pulling out a metal-studded club and hefting it threateningly.

Belle's angel had stopped some meters away. Her eyes were very wide, and she had her hands clasped in front of her mouth - in prayer or fear, Belle couldn't be sure. She was close enough to hear, now, so he really ought to watch his language (and maybe get his boots off the table) but with a fight in the offing, Grandpa and Daddy Zoro's influence was stronger than Daddy Sanji's. "Old news, shitheads." He offered them a shark-like grin. "Went up to twenty-two last week." It had meant another poster tacked up on the already cluttered galley wall with all the others, another Bounty Feast.

"Even better. And we'll be taking your little lady, too. If she ain't got a bounty, at least she'll fetch a pretty price at the market." The man leaned over Belle's face, returning grin for shark-like grin with ugly yellow teeth. His partner stepped around the table and put a bit hand around Marie's neck. The message was clear - give trouble, and the girl dies.

"The hell, Marie?" Belle grumbled. "Yer trouble even if ya do shut up." Even through her terror, Marie managed to glare back at him_. That's the way_, Belle thought_. Knew ya weren't a total pansy_. The waitress, his angel, the girl of his dreams, however... she was backing away slowly, any thoughts of asking these dangerous customers to leave forgotten. She might be have been beautiful and a great cook, Belle thought disparagingly, but she was still chicken shit. Not his ideal girl after all. It was disappointing.

"Belle?" He'd never heard Marie's voice tremble like that. It was even more annoying than usual.

"Yeah?" There was absolutely no way he was related to this stupid weak girl. Even Annie had more fighting spirit, and she was only seven. Marie would never be able to match up to Mommy or Grandma, or even someone like Aunt Vivi (who wore silly dresses and lived in a weak, cushy - comfortable - palace, but had really scary eyes when she was seriously pissed).

Marie whimpered. "Help." Well, wasn't that just great. Daddy had made it clear that you never, ever ignored a woman's plea for help. It looked like he was stuck saving his stupid cousin even though he was pretty sure that it was, somehow, her fault that they were in this mess to begin with.

"Fine," Belle grunted. He would never let it be said that he wasn't a gentleman, even when girls like Marie, who definitely weren't ladies, were concerned. With a nonchalance he'd learned from a father who could casually light up a cigarette in the middle of a pitched battle, Belle pulled his lighter out of his pocket. Life would be a lot easier if he could light up without one like Uncle Ace, but this looked cool in its own way.

He held up his hands very deliberately for the bounty hunters to see. Then, with a practiced flick of his thumb, he set fire to his left hand. The flame caught easily, crackling along dissolving skin until there was only a ball of fire where his fist had been. He could feel the eyes of every single person in the restaurant on them. _Damn. _There would be no coming back here after this, no matter how good the meat was.

Belle looked the nearest bounty hunter directly in the eye. He smiled. And then he punched the man in the jaw. With a sound somewhere between a grunt and a scream, the man dropped to the floor.

"Stop it," the man's partner grunted. His hands were tightening around Marie's neck threateningly. Marie, already pale with fear, was rapidly taking on a less healthy colour. "Stop it. I'll do it." The tightness in his voice gave him away - the man was terrified. More than likely, they'd come after Belle because he looked young and innocent, not at all the sort who could have earned a twenty-two million belli bounty.

Belle flicked a couple of fingers towards the man. A thin stream of fire leapt from them and twisted itself around the man's throat like a collar. "Gimme her back. It'll mean no dessert for a _month _if Dad finds out I didn't stop you." The man was desperately trying to twist away from the flames, and seemed to have forgotten his fingers tightening around Marie's throat. Belle walked over and kicked him in the groin.

The man dropped to his knees. His hand dropped from around Marie's neck and went to his own. He screamed as his fingers were burnt. "Ye can pay our bill, too," Belle added, and turned to leave.

A glance back showed that Marie, apparently in a state of shock, wasn't about to follow him. With a sigh and a silent curse, he grabbed her hand and led her outside. Regretfully, he let go of his flame - its tickling warmth was comforting, but he couldn't walk around flaming all the time.

He could hear the shouts and heavy footfalls of an approaching marine patrol, no doubt come to deal with the trouble in the restaurant they had just left. Belle dragged Marie into an alleyway to hide them. "Better damn well learn something useful at that bloody school, after all this," he told her.


	9. Fallen 2

_First, allow me to say that I really, really enjoyed writing this chapter. It is entirely OC's, though, so I don't know how long I'm going to continue with Son of the Strawhat after this. I guess the alternative is to go back and write stuff that happened before this and just not have things in chronological order, but I have two major multi-chapter One Piece fics on the go right now (besides this, which is just a fun side project). Fallen 3 was written, and was horrible, and so was axed. Formulaic, flat, contrived... it was terrible, and I can't even subject myself to the horror that would be editing it. It'll have to be entirely rewritten, but I don't know when that'll happen. -Adali

* * *

_

**Son of the Strawhat: Fallen  
**_Chapter Two_

It was almost midnight, but the harsh moonlight slanting through the open window illuminated half a dozen alert, excited faces. The girls had just finished their first day of a new term, and were now preparing for their first night in a new dorm. A new year, a new dorm, a new pecking order. Marie carefully schooled her features to blankness. It was her third year at the school, and she had no reason to doubt that this year she would, once again, land smack at the bottom of any hierarchy. Her father was a relatively well-respected chef; her mother, a farmer and banker known to be involved in numerous charitable works in West Blue. While that might make her someone of notice back in West Blue, here on the Grand Line, surrounded by the daughters of high-ranking marine officers and the aristocracy of numerous countries, she was regarded as a peasant girl from the sticks. Of course, she had plenty of very wealthy, very famous relatives, but they weren't exactly on the right side of the law.

Even though everyone knew it all already, recitations of lineages and famous relatives were going on. There was a girl whose uncle was a count. Another was the daughter of the largest shipping magnate in this area of the Grand Line. One girl's grandfather was a marine captain. Marie was well aware that she'd only been accepted to the school because of her grandmother, who had been a marine with a distinguished record though no rank, and a bit of under-the-table money that had probably originally come from Aunt Nami. She was the resident pauper, and never got a chance to forget it.

But that was okay. She was happy here: she had friends, and did well at her lessons. And if she sometimes found herself thinking longingly of ocean spray and the wind in her hair and the far-off sound of marine cannons, well, there was always some sort of work she could lose herself in until those daydreams went away and she could be comfortable in this tame, quiet place. She did not long for adventure. She did not envy that brat Belle. She didn't wait patiently through the months until one of the Open Days when, if he was in the area (though he rarely was) he would stop by and tell her a few stories of what he had seen and done.

He had been to Elbaf and drunk in the great halls of the giants. He had scoured the ruins of Ohara for some remnant of a scrap of paper. He had drilled in swordsmanship against Red-Haired Shanks, a man known to most as an emperor but to him as 'Grandfather'.

Her eyes must be tired, she thought. She was sitting on her bed, not really listening to the other girls and, despite how clear the night was, she had thought she'd seen a couple of sparks drift in through the open window. But no, it wasn't her imagination - more were coming. How strange to see fireflies like this. Didn't they prefer more rural areas? And she had never seen a swarm like this, pouring in like a river, each glowing and dancing like a star as is flew around the room.

The other girls had noticed now too, and their conversation was abruptly cut off, although a furious whispering soon replaced it. Marie ignored them, sure that this display was somehow special - hoping, somehow, that it was for her, and that she could be just a little bit special because of it.

There was one firefly, far brighter than the others, hovering just by the windowsill. It pulsed, seeming to call to the others and, as though answering the summons, the others swirled around and towards it, gathering tightly together until they glowed in one single, brilliant ball a little larger than Marie herself. Abruptly, as they came together, Marie realized what she was seeing.

The light continued to condense, sparks flaring to tongues of flame before disappearing. As soon as her brat cousin had finished materializing, Marie hurled a pillow at him with all her might. "Brat!" she cried, momentarily forgetting that it was after curfew, and not to make loud noises. The other girls, shocked at the figure now reposed on their windowsill, forgot to hush her.

"Evenin', Marie," he returned with a congenial smile and a roguish wink. Oh, that brat was just asking for it.

He'd grown since she last saw him nearly a year ago. The last of the baby fat was gone - he had the lithe figure of her Uncle Luffy, although he might still add layers of muscle like Uncle Luffy's brother, Ace, who seemed to have inspired the boy's wardrobe. Black shorts and a bare chest showed off the golden tan he'd probably gained in some far off, exotic place. His unruly red-tangerine hair had been corralled by a dark bandana. The strange pendant around his neck drew the eye down past sharp collarbones to the beginnings of a decent set of pecs. Dark, mischievous eyes glittered with the reflection of the last few sparks of his flame. He'd be a heartthrob one day, just like his Uncle Ace, and didn't the brat just know it. He really was insufferable.

"What did you come here for?" she gritted out, although something deep inside her - the same something that dreamed of ocean spray and freedom - rejoiced to see him. Although well-bred girls weren't supposed to see such things, anyone who had happened to catch sight of Belle's wanted poster on a relative's desk or in the newspaper before they could be whisked out of sight would know him in an instant. She didn't want trouble for him - pain in the ass though he was - and she _didn't _want anyone at school finding out about her piratical relations.

He offered her a cheeky, innocent grin. "Dad made cookies."

For that... for that she could almost forgive him; him and his dratted entrance. For Uncle Sanji's cookies, almost anything could be forgiven, so long as they were the right type. "The ones with jam?" she asked suspiciously.

He shook his head, momentarily uncertain. "Chocolate." Oh. In that case, she could forgive him anything. He must have read it in her face, because his smile, so much like his infamous father's, returned full force. He proffered the tin and, too happy to recall that she was only wearing a thin nightgown and ought to be embarrassed, she hopped out of bed and snatched it up.

"Heh. Yer growin' up okay," the damn brat said with a cheeky grin and a point of his finger that left no doubt about the perversion of his comment.

"Damn brat!" she cried, smacking him over the head with the cookie tin.

He yelped, and scrambled out of the way, nearly falling out the window as he did. "Don't break the cookies! Dad'll have my hide." He rubbed his head in a slightly vexed, slightly puzzled way. "Don't see what's wrong with it. S'a good thing, in'nit?"

"Didn't your dad teach you anything about how to treat a lady?" she hissed, suddenly aware that all her dorm-mates were staring at them, well-bred ears craned to pick up every word and nuance of the conversation.

Mischief flared like a fire in those dark eyes. "Hell yeah he did. Look't this." He twisted, showing her the top of his shoulder. A large, dark bruise, nearly as long as her hand, spread along the ridge and up the curve of his neck.

"Idiot." She smacked him on the head again, this time with her hand so as not to damage the precious cookies. "That's not something you're supposed to show off." Still, she couldn't help her curiosity. "Who was it?"

Countries would fall before the mischief in those eyes. "Kanan."

"No."

"Yep." But he was blushing, enough that even with only the moon for light she could see it.

"She's two years older," Marie said, as though that had ever mattered to him. For some reason, the brat had been chased after by women for as long as she could remember - first, because they thought he was an adorable little boy, but more recently for other reason.

Belle rubbed at his shoulder, as though the bruise was no longer something to be proud of and he wished it would go away. "She's not that experienced, though. She wanted to practice afore she gets engaged next month, but I think Karoo woulda been a better kisser." Marie wanted to tell him not to go up to the spot-billed duck and test the theory but thought that, if she did, he might do it just to spite her.

"What did your parents say?"

He looked embarrassed. "Told 'em Karoo bit me," he muttered.

"And they believed you?" It wasn't like Belle's parents were idiots. Well, not all of them, anyway. Marie didn't think she'd ever met people as sharp as Aunt Nami and Great-aunt Robin. And even Uncle Zoro and Uncle Sanji could be quick, if needs be.

"Well, Dad kicked me inna head and made me do all the dishes." A light punishment from Uncle Sanji, in Marie's opinion, and better than the brat had deserved. Especially if he was going to go around bragging about his ill-advised dalliances afterwards.

Out loud, though, she just snorted softly. "Where are you headed next?"

Belle's casual demeanor disappeared in an instant, and his dark eyes flickered deliberately to the side where their audience, forgotten by Marie, still listened. "Around," he said casually. "I'll come for yer Leaving Ball for sure."

"That's three years away," Marie said, startled. Would he really be gone so long?

He shrugged. "Can't promise afore that. I'll stop by if'n I'm nearby, but I think Dad has some plans. An' if he don't, Mom does."

"A while, then." She found herself smiling sadly. Not that she was going to miss him. Absolutely not.

He shrugged again. "I think Great-grandpa's gonna kidnap me one'a these days. Might see me then." He gave a rueful grin. "Or he might kill me. Crazy ol' bastard." There was a gasp from the peanut gallery. "Guess I should let ye girls get back to sleep, or yer naughty pillow fights or what not. Don't worry, I won't watch," he added with a roguish wink that the other girls might not have seen, but Marie couldn't miss.

"Get gone," she told him, a fond smile threatening to force its way onto her lips. He grinned again, cheerful and carefree, gave her a kiss on the cheek, flicked his lighter and disappeared in a pillar of flame, leaving behind the smell of scorched citrus.

Marie stood at the window, smiling at the night, until the other girls dragged her attention back inside. They were asking questions, their voices riding over each other despite the breach in etiquette, so that Marie could only catch parts of what was said. "Who was that?" one demanded as they clustered around her.

"Your boyfriend?"

"Boyfriends aren't allowed." That petulant comment came from the shipping magnate's daughter.

Marie fought not to roll her eyes. Aunt Nami was so lucky to be able to smack anyone who asked stupid questions. "My cousin."

"Kanan? Did he mean _Princess_ Kanan? Of Alabasta?" the count's niece demanded.

"Yes."

"You _know _her?"

Maybe she should sneak off and join a pirate crew, just so she could smack anyone who annoyed her. "Not well." They'd met a couple of times when Marie was younger, back when she used to sometimes go sailing with Belle's family during summer vacations.

"Killing is illegal. His great-grandfather is probably a horrible criminal." The marine captain's granddaughter said it in a way that implied that, if so, the stain would spread to Marie as well.

"His great-grandfather is a marine admiral," Marie said with a shrug. "He could probably get away with it."

There was a collective pause, as Marie's newly discovered connections were considered. "She knows the princess of Alabasta," one girl offered.

"Her cousin's great-grandfather is an admiral," added another.

"Her cousin is gorgeous," added a third, although Marie couldn't have said from the voice who it was. There was a low hum of agreement from the girls. _Gorgeous? _Marie thought. _That brat? _Well, he certainly thought he was.

"You'll get fat if you eat cookies," the shipping magnate's daughter said, bitterness creating an edge to her voice.

Marie's glare swept across the girls, pinning the unfortunate speaker like a lightning bolt. "_No one _gets fat from my uncle's cookies." She swallowed. In her anger, she had almost said 'Uncle Sanji'. Maybe one of these days she would. She'd just announce that her aunts and uncles were all pirates (and her father was a long-retired pirate), quit the school, and sail around the world with them and have grand adventures. Maybe one day. For now, she had Belle's promise to look forward to.


	10. Fallen 2 and a half

_This is not a planned chapter of _Son of the Strawhat. _It occurred to me that large time skips were proving disruptive to the development of Marie's personality (part of why Fallen 3 was such a failure) and this popped into my head. It has not been edited, so please be understanding of any glitches... my life is a bit insane just now, in preparation for my plans to drop off the face of the planet for two weeks in the near future and so, while writing retains its place on my list of priorities, proof-reading has been dropped. -Adali_

* * *

**Son of the Strawhat: Fallen  
**_Chapter Two and a Half_

**Attn: **Vice-Admiral Komir, G2 Naval Marine Base  
**From: **Agent codename Othello  
**Report Number: **B634-95G1  
**Case: **KMXX-Gen2-A  
**Mission**** Status: **On-going  
**Summary: **Remains of document believed to be in Subject KMXX-Gen2-A-34's own hand. Documents destroyed by fire, likely following Incident KMXX-6537B32-C (c.f. Incident MOSX-3346G-S) at Location GL(L4S2)-314014.734009 (see Reports B634-95F:1-22)

_Tuesday, October 23, 33 GAP _(Date uncertain)  
...simply splendid. We had a lovely tea-party this afternoon out in the gardens, though they made us wear the most frightful dresses. I explained to Mistress, very nicely I thought, that white makes me look pasty, and she had the nerve to tell me that ladies ought not dye their hair. She's one to talk, seeing as she goes down to the city every two weeks to have her gray's covered! She truly can be most odious at times.

_Sunday, December 26, 33__ GAP_  
Aunt Nami and that odious little brat came to visit today. I thought Aunt Nami might be caught trying to steal the good silverware and simply ruin my reputation here, but she was ever so well behaved, as though she really were a proper lady. The brat was simply mortifying, until Aunt Nami had to send him away. They brought me a lovely bracelet from Jaya and some of Uncle Sanji's special Christmas cookies, which was very decent of them. I won't see them again until summer, and I must say I'm...

_Monday, September 3, 34__ GAP_  
Back again, ready for another year of curtsies and lessons in smiling. None of my dresses fit anymore, since I finally seem to have grown, probably because Mom had me slaving away in the orchard all summer. I just know all the other girls are going to laugh at my tan. But that's alright because, unlike all those silly, underfed little goody-goodies, I finally have a bosom. They shan't be laughing for long once they see that my dress is starting to fit me properly while they still look like little children.

_Thursday, May 24, 35__ GAP_  
Damn and blast! That odious bitch, Helena, caught me sneaking in from the city, and now I have to serve two hours a night detention with Mistress. For an entire month! How am I supposed to get news of the outside world if I don't go to the city? Sea and sky forbid they bring us a newspaper once in a while. But I heard mention in the tavern that B... (Possible reference to Subject KMXX-Gen2-A1)

_Saturday, November 15, 35__ GAP_  
It's official: I'm number two on Mistress's shit list, right after Angus the Second Butler (who spilled tea on Mistress's good silk slippers four years ago and still hasn't apologized, or so the story goes - personally, I think they had a wild, torrid affair until he realized what an old biddy she is, and stopped calling on her). I got caught sneaking in _again_. Which really isn't fair, because I wasn't even outside the school, just down at the guardhouse. Captain Hayate _still _won't give me shooting lessons because he says ladies don't shoot guns. Mom shoots a gun, and no one would dare say she isn't a lady. I shall keep trying until he gives in, though.

_Tuesday, November 18, 35__ GAP_  
Good news! Ruri-kun, the guard sergeant, has promised to teach me to shoot! He says that...

_XXXX, XXXXX 31, 37 GAP_  
... didn't believe me that the cat shredded it and used it as a litter box and that's why it wasn't done. I bet Yukino snitched on me and told Mistress I was skiving off again. She think's that just because...

* * *

_More author's notes... while half the marine code is nonsense, there's logic to parts of it. GAP (that's Marie's code, actually, but anyway) is the Great Age of Pirates, KMXX is Kaizoku Mugiwara (no value, no value), making KMXX-Gen2-A1, you guessed it, Belle. Cookie to anyone who can figure out who/what MOSX is. Or you can wait for the eventual arrival of Fallen 3. I'm so evil._


End file.
